


The One-Eyed Monster

by witchertrashbag (intothegarbagechute)



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Witcher - Fandom
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Geralt of Rivia is a size queen, Geralt of Rivia loves it up the ass pass it on, Jaskier has a monster cock (the only fandom where I need to clarify: not literally), M/M, Masturbation, Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Spanking, Switching, Top Jaskier | Dandelion, but there was only one bed!, no beta we die like witchers, the requisite bath scene, this club has it all, verbal consent as a weapon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:27:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22460335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intothegarbagechute/pseuds/witchertrashbag
Summary: Geralt of Rivia has killed hundreds, maybe thousands of monsters of every kind.  The only monster he hasn't conquered at this point... is Jaskier's enormous dick.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 41
Kudos: 1019





	The One-Eyed Monster

Geralt of Rivia has killed hundreds, maybe thousands of monsters of every kind. The only monster he hasn't conquered at this point... is Jaskier's enormous dick.

He caught his first glimpse one sweltering summer day, in the south, when they'd found an ice-cold spring. He'd shucked his clothes and jumped in, never one to be bashful of nakedness, and Jaskier, as ever, refused to follow, instead sweating and whining on the banks like a toddler. When Geralt had finally emerged renewed by the spring and Jaskier thought he'd gone far enough away to warrant some privacy, only then had Jaskier silently peeled off his sticky clothes, Geralt smirking through the trees at his modesty, until he saw... _it._

Fuck. Geralt had been with men before, of course. Most assumed he was straight because he usually chose to fuck women, but the trouble is there were just so few men working the brothels these days, at least ones with something to really challenge the Witcher.

Jaskier would definitely be a challenge, one he'd not been able to stop thinking about since that day at the spring. At night, if the pair were traveling separately, he'd lie in the forest thinking of being split open by that dick, buried deep in his ass, the rhythm against him; and once he found himself coming right then and there, having quite forgotten to touch himself.

Some days he employed all his abilities to sneak and silently hide and spy on his traveling companion, greedily watching him swim even as his own dick ached to be touched-- and he never did, because it's dishonorable to silently jack off to your friend while spying on him. Sometimes he didn't trust that his memory was really accurate and needed to sneak another glance, only to find-- oh yes, it really was that fucking big, even at rest. Other days, he couldn't get close to the bard for fear of what he might _do_ with any proximity to his... instrument.

The worst days were when the bard found his own lovers on their travels, both men and women, and no matter how far away he fucked them, Geralt's ears rang with their cries of ecstasy, and his dick throbbed, jealous and desperate. With a quick and dirty dozen strokes, he'd relieve himself, but it was never enough. He knew Jaskier was, thankfully, utterly oblivious to all of this; Geralt's stoic, impenetrable exterior and taciturn way were a fortress to his emotions.

But it was all getting to be a bit much. And no matter where they went, Geralt couldn't find a suitable man to get dicked down. In fact, he'd been so preoccupied that he really hadn't even been with a woman in some time, he realized, as he and Jaskier walked into another little village, this one too small even for a brothel.

The day's walk hadn't been long enough; Geralt was still bounding with energy from a little drowner kill a few miles back. He was probably pretty filthy, covered in road and guts under his leathers and armor, now half-undone. He kept his calm exterior and tried to look as approachable as possible as they entered the only inn. This place was definitely beneath the bard's talents-- even the musical ones-- but Geralt watched him smile broadly and start playing for the pub's scattered patrons as Geralt inquired about accommodations.

"Yeah," the toothless old inkeep said. "Here's yer key." And they _PLONKED_ a rusty metal key onto the bar.

"Two rooms," Geralt grunted. But his host merely grunted back "One."

"Bath," Geralt countered.

"Mmm," the innkeep agreed, then waddled off to bring more ale to another patron. Geralt sighed and glanced at the bard, at the flush on his cheek in the firelight as he sang of Geralt's own heroic and totally embellished deeds. Geralt grunted grumpily and palmed the pint of ale at his side. He took a swig as he watched the bard, entranced with his voice, at the way his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed and sang, and his eyes trailed down, to his--

Fuck. Jaskier glanced over and they accidentally made eye contact. Geralt kept his cool and, in his practiced way, let out the merest smirk, in a way he hoped seemed condescending. Then he turned, chugged the whole damn pint, grabbed the key, and tromped upstairs.

\--

Geralt sank into the hot bath, annoyed and unsatisfied as he scrubbed a layer of grime and death from his skin. He tried to quickly rub one out, thinking that at least would give him some peace, but even his filthiest thoughts, the ones that usually got him hard pretty instantly-- of peeling away Jaskier's trousers, of taking his length in his mouth, of the delicious, soft, sinful "oh" he was sure Jaskier would make as his huge dick slipped all the way down Geralt's throat-- even those couldn't get him there tonight.

So Geralt wasn't particularly alarmed when Jaskier entered the room, his eyes bright from his performance, and set down his lute.

"Short performance," Geralt noted.

"It's been two hours," Jaskier replied, "people kept piling in-- I don't know where they kept coming from-- so many they demanded an encore of the White Wolf saga. Don't worry, I didn't tell them their hero was just upstairs..." Jaskier trailed off, close to the tub now, close enough to dip a finger in and feel the water. "How long have you been in here?"

Geralt realized the water was cold.

"It was tepid to start," he lied.

Jaskier picked up Geralt's palm, seeing a wrinkly fingertip evidence to the contrary. "Hmm. I'll bathe in the morning. Unless I smell too horrible for your delicate nose. Do I? Smell horrible?"

Geralt's nostrils flared, but that's all he let the bard see. Jaskier smelled like passion, power, like he'd just owned and captivated the entire inn downstairs, as Geralt knew he had. And... something else?

"No," Geralt said.

"Well, then I'll just get ready to sleep," the bard said, turning around the room and removing his doublet and shirt. And it wasn't until that moment that Geralt realized:

There was only one bed.

Geralt swallowed silently. They'd shared a bed before. They'd shared a bedroll before. Not since... Geralt knew what he'd been sleeping beside, but still. This would be fine. He would be fine.

Jaskier looked Geralt dead in the eye and dropped his trousers and smallclothes.

Geralt was exactly eye-level to Jaskier's dick, so close that even in the candlelight, he didn't need a potion for his enhanced eyesight to take in the considerable length (and consider, he had), the slight curve, the veins, the little freckle, and _the thickness,_ _gods, it was practically juicy._

Geralt did not notice that he licked his lips. But Jaskier did.

"See anything you like?" the bard asked.

"No," said Geralt, withdrawing again, collecting himself. Except he had a huge fucking erection just underwater, a soldier laying in wait, ready to be called to battle. Geralt took in a very deliberate, slow breath, imperceptible to humans, to still his heartbeat.

Jaskier smirked.

"Then get out of the tub."

Geralt's eyes blazed and his head whipped around to look at Jaskier, a look straight out of the heat of battle. And yet Jaskier just leaned back at the edge of the bed, _casual_ , his dick _casually_ hanging against his milky white thigh.

"Witcher," Jaskier said, a slight impudent whine entering his voice. "I need you."

Geralt's traitorous dick twitched. Jaskier licked his lips.

"Get out of the tub," he whispered, a hushed order.

Geralt stood, the water falling off his stony chest and abs, down his thick, thick thighs, his erection revealed. He was pleased to see Jaskier blush a little at the sight of it, let out a little approving _mmm_. He straightened, proudly.

"I like you showing off for me, on display," Jaskier said quietly, and Geralt could see it was true: his cock started to grow hard. "Now come here; I need you."

"For what?" Geralt said, striding to the man.

Jaskier gazed up at this beautiful dumbass and said: "I need you to tell me what you want."

"Hmm," said the Witcher, his eyes darting down to Jaskier's hardening cock, up at Jaskier's mouth, into those cornflower blue eyes, at his throat, at the vein pulsing there and the rapid heartbeat that fed it, and he knew he couldn't tell him. It would--. He would--.

"I need you to say it."

Geralt didn't realize he pouted slightly, his pink lips pressed together in frustration-- and fear.

"Say it."

Geralt turned his gold eyes to Jaskier's. It was now or never.

"I want your cock in my mouth," tumbled out of his lips, more wanton and desperate than Geralt had ever-- Jaskier's eyes flared. " _Need_."

"Okay," Jaskier said, surprised. "Um, yes. Yes, please."

Geralt grunted and slowly knelt at the bard's feet, happy to employ his mouth with something other than words, happier still that it was with this. Now, faced with it, could he fit it down his throat? Fuck, he would try.

Shivers shot down Geralt's spine as Jaskier ran his fingers across his scalp. Geralt inhaled sharply, with a slight hum that made Jaskier's dick twitch.

"I know it's a lot, I--"

Geralt took the base of it in one enormous, calloused hand, still damp and pruny from the bath. Then he opened his mouth, his tongue slightly out, and looked up at Jaskier.

"Oh, gods," Jaskier said. The Witcher on his knees, looking _absolutely fucking filthy?_ Like he was born to suck cocks and nothing more?

Geralt flicked his tongue over the tip, then took it into his mouth, humming as it got harder against his lips, as the tip grew and smoothed, running his tongue along the head, sucking and slurping, lost in this cock, looking absolutely obscene, then slowly working the length of it down his throat. But instead of that soft "oh," Jaskier let out a rough:

" _Fuckkkk!"_ and tensed his hands threaded in Geralt's hair, pushing his head into his cock, bucking his hips against Geralt's mouth. " _Oh, fuck, fuck you, fuck._ " Geralt let him fuck his face with shallow thrusts, his nose pressing against the bard's smooth stomach, his hums turning to moans, his own dick starting to leak slightly where it hung red and abandoned.

" _Ahhhhh, fuck. Fuck you, Witcher_ ," Jaskier shouted as he thrust into his mouth. Geralt caught one of Jaskier's hands in his and pulled back, letting the cock slip out of his mouth, slick and red and absolutely dripping with his spit. He looked up at Jaskier and said:

"That's the idea, bard."

Jaskier's hips sank back onto the bed, stunned, as Geralt snatched a bottle from his pack and slicked his fingers with oil.

Awake now, alive, in control of this monster, Geralt sank onto a hand and knees on the bed beside the bard, presenting his thick, round ass to him, his cock hanging and painfully aroused, and started fingering himself open. Jaskier watched, mouth open, dick dripping, as the Witcher hissed in a moan against his own fingers. Had Geralt seen him smirk, he would've been more prepared. But he didn't, and he wasn't.

"No, no no no. This won't do at all," he told Geralt. Geralt stopped, a creeping fear slicing through the heat low in his belly. "On your back."

Geralt ignored the command, slipping a second finger inside himself. With a nimble hand, Jaskier smacked the Witcher's ass.

They both froze, Jaskier unsure if that would be his last action in this world, Geralt shocked to find himself somehow more aroused. He choked out a groan, and could not see as the bard's smirk returned.

"Geralt?"

"Hmm."

"Do you want me to punish you?"

Geralt drew in a ragged breath that betrayed him entirely.

"I want you to say it."

"Yes--" Geralt choked out.

"Yes what?" Geralt said nothing. "I can't damage my hand, you see, I need--"

"Yes-- _please_."

"Mmm," Jaskier said. Geralt could hear him, could _smell_ him and his cock move away from the bed, rummage in a bag, and then, without warning:

THWAP. Geralt gasped as the leather of his own belt smacked across his ass, searing heat across him, pooling deep and coursing through his cock.

"Fuck, Jaskier--"

 _THWAP!_ Geralt tensed, his toes curling, then released, the pain and pleasure searing through him, another wanton moan escaping his lips.

 _THWAP!_ The belt came down once more against the flesh where his thighs and cheeks met, then he heard it clatter to the floor as Jaskier came around to his face, gently lifting his chin in his hand, his sweet blue eyes looking sharply at him, looking for signs of too much pain.

"Jaskier," Geralt breathed, his eyes fluttering with arousal.

"If we're gonna do this I need you to obey me, do you understand?" Geralt looked flushed, confused. "I don't want you to get hurt," Jaskier explained.

"You won't--" but Jaskier slipped a thumb into Geralt's mouth, silencing him. He looked down at him, almost haughty, as Geralt hummed into the thumb, sucking on it like a cheap fuck, still on his hands and knees, his dick desperate for attention. Jaskier pulled out his thumb.

"On your back, Witcher," he said quietly. "And I'm not fucking you until you're begging me."

"Hmpfh," Geralt offered, arrogantly, as he rolled to his back, revealing his magnificent physique from another angle, foolishly thinking he was in charge of this situation.

Until Jaskier pressed the thumb Geralt had sucked into his well-oiled asshole, and Geralt moaned low again, a moan that turned into a: " _Fuck_." Geralt looked down and found Jaskier, hair tousled, the most evil gleam in his eye, was watching him closely as he fucked his asshole with his thumb.

And then the motherfucker slowly, slowly brought his mouth down, hovering just over Geralt's dick, breathing on it as he slipped a second finger inside him, leaving his cock ignored.

Geralt let out a low _whine_ , but held his hips steady when Jaskier slowly shook his head "no." He watched as this angel, this horrible, cruel, monstrous angel spread him open and teased his cock without touching it at all. He got three full fingers in before Geralt spoke again.

"Jaskier, I'm ready, I can take it."

"That's not really begging, is it?" And Jaskier curled a finger, searching for--

" _Ahhhhh fuck, fuck, Jaskier, Jaskier please--"_

\--that. But Geralt watched, sweat beading on his worried brow as Jaskier merely kept that finger pressing over Geralt's prostate, slowly, _so fucking slowly_ Geralt thought: _I might die. I might die right here. The first Witcher to ever die in a bed._ Then Jaskier pressed his lips to Geralt's cock and--

" _Fuck-- please, Jaskier, please, please--"_ he whispered, begging.

"Please what?"

" _Please fuck me, I need-- I need your cock inside--"_

"Louder," Jaskier found himself ordering as his twisted his finger again.

"Please! Oh, fuck, please! Fuck me!" Geralt shouted, and Jaskier pulled away both mouth and hand from the Witcher, leaving him breathless and confused as the bard rolled onto his back beside him.

Jaskier slipped a used finger in Geralt's mouth to soothe him. "You know, we've talked a lot about what you want, but what about me? What do I want?" Jaskier found himself saying with surprising amounts of both confidence and self-control.

Geralt's eyes flicked over to Jaskier, so desperate with arousal, almost lost in it.

" _Anything_ ," he whispered. " _Anything-- tell me_."

Jaskier looked deep into Geralt's yellow eyes. "I want to watch you fuck yourself on my cock." Geralt's eyes widened. He'd been ready to get his mind fucked right out of him, and now he brought himself back to his knees as the bard-- that beautiful, fucking bastard-- lay back on the bed with the most-- Geralt could slap that smirk right off of his face if his heart's desire wasn't standing tall before him. If Jaskier wanted a show, he would damn well give him a fucking show.

Geralt sized up the dick, still wet from his saliva, straining with arousal. He took its base in a thick hand. And Geralt the White Wolf raised himself up and slowly brought his ass down around that thick cock, gasping sharply. It filled him so, he didn't move for a moment, just felt the girth stretching him still.

"Good," said Jaskier. "Take it slow." It sounded almost... condescending to Geralt, and his eyes noticed the tiny smirk on the bard's face, saw the challenge.

Geralt raised himself up and fucked down hard against Jaskier's cock, eliciting a gasp from the bard. Again, Geralt began to find a rhythm, living in the filthy sounds it was drawing out of Jaskier, the rough moans leading to rough hands grabbing his hips and ass.

Geralt threw his head back with a debauched grunt, letting his disheveled hair fly behind him as he worked up a pace--

Until Jaskier reached up and grabbed that disheveled hair, dragging Geralt down towards him, and--

The Witcher gasped a loud moan that reverberated around the room, the changed angle pressing Jaskier's throbbing length against his prostate, his dick caught between them, rubbing against their stomachs. His thrusts became slower, shorter, more deliberate as he fucked himself against Jaskier's dick. A whimper, a sound he didn't even know he could make, escaped his lips.

"Hey," Jaskier said, and Geralt's eyes flicked up to meet his. "This is how I want you, Witcher. Used, begging and desperate, so fucking desperate for release you'll do--"

Geralt's vision went black as he came loud and hard and growling the bard's name with a " _Fffffuck!"_ thrusting himself on Jaskier, and Jaskier followed at the feeling, the sight of the undone and thoroughly used Witcher, his eyes blown black with his orgasm.

With a deep breath, Geralt rolled to his side so Jaskier could slip out, and they laid there, panting, for quite some time, Jaskier's cum leaking out of the Witcher's ass, Geralt's cum streaked across both of them.

"Hey," Jaskier said, "Tomorrow, I think the good people of this town may expect a new saga: about the cock that conquered the White Wolf." And Geralt was so thoroughly satisfied, he let it slide. This time.

**Author's Note:**

> Hiiiiii this is my first work in this fandom and I wish none of this were happening to me! But Geralt of Rivera likes it up the ass, pass it on.


End file.
